


Torchwood-ball

by paleolithic_demitasse



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Humor, Team Bonding, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleolithic_demitasse/pseuds/paleolithic_demitasse
Summary: “C’mon you two, let’s get a move on!” Owen hassled his teammates, passing above Martha’s outstretched hands to Tosh’s waiting ones. As Tosh turned around to shoot, knees bent and arms behind her head, Gwen grabbed the ball out of her hands, and threw it desperately in the direction of the hoop. The ball sailed gracelessly above the backboard (which, of course, was specially endowed with the same logo that haunted Ianto’s figurative and literal dreams) and hit the catwalk with a clang. Team Torchwood plus Martha Jones play a loosely-regulated ball game (read: adult Calvinball). Written for Torchwood Fest, Day One, with the prompt teamwork!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day One of Torchwood Fest, with the prompt 'Teamwork'. I love the team basketball scene from the beginning of Cyberwoman (up until the point where Ianto is sad and left out), so I thought I'd expand on that. Un-beta'd, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Enjoy!

Teams  
Jack                   Gwen  
Owen                 Ianto  
Tosh                   ~~Myfanwy~~  
                          Martha  
  
The list was scribbled messily onto a yellow post-it note that had somehow found its way from the side of the rift manipulator to Ianto's forehead. How this had happened was a complete mystery. (Meaning, Jack probably had something to do with it.) An amalgam of team spirit and endless patience kept Ianto from scrunching it into a ball and throwing it at Gwen, or Owen, or anybody, really. Martha giggled as he shook his head, quiff bouncing from side to side, in an attempt to dislodge the post-it. Alas, Ianto's expertly reigned in frustration was no match for the slathering of industrial-strength glue Jack insisted was used in the production of their specially-made Torchwood stationary. Ianto sighed, lamenting the days of normal sticky notes. He had a veritable rainbow of them at home, but if it didn't have the hexagonal 'T' on it, it wasn't welcome in the Hub.  
  
Distracted by thoughts of ridiculous Torchwood 'policies' that Jack had either invented in the made-up way or the came-up-with way, Ianto felt the basketball be snatched out of his hands by Tosh.  
  
“Damn it!” (That was Ianto.)  
  
“Ianto!” (The warning tone of one team captain Gwen Cooper.)  
  
“Oh come on!” (The ever-exasperated Martha other-Jones.)  
  
The three yells blended together into a singular sound of team annoyance, punctuated by Owen's laughter, Jack's 'yes!' and their subsequent fist bump.  
  
Boisterous shouts set to a soundtrack of blaring pop music accompanied Tosh as she deftly passed the ball to Owen, who was standing between Tosh's desk and the stairs up to the catwalks. Ball in hand, he eyed Jack's frantic waving and calls of ‘Here! Pass! C’mon Owen, let’s GO!’, arms open to receive the basketball. Martha and Gwen made a move towards him - Tosh skipped backwards to mark Ianto. Unperturbed, Owen dribbled towards the basketball hoop, ignored Jack, shot for the hoop and missed spectacularly. The ball rebounded off the edge of the board, rocketing back towards the desks. A loud clatter and the sound of something fragile breaking resounded through the Hub. Ianto winced.  
  
\-----  
__  
_“Can we at least clear the desks before we get started?” pleaded Ianto as Jack and Gwen crouched over the team list, despite having sorted out the teams hours ago._  
  
_Tosh piped up in his aid. “Remember those glass cubes we picked up last week from that pod wreckage? I'm still trying to figure out what they do, so there's a lot of extra fragile tech on there at the moment.”_  
  
_“Well, we'll just have to be extra careful then, won't we?” Owen's sarcastic response only egged them on further._  
  
_Face scrunched in irritation, Tosh continued to list reasons why they should be careful around the equipment inside the hub. Martha nodded in agreement from the sofa. Jack and Gwen continued to argue about whether or not Myfanwy should be encouraged to participate in Torchwood-ball. Ianto sighed, got up from beside Martha and began to move breakable objects to the conference room._  
  
_Starting with the coffee machine._  
  
\-----  
  
“No goal!” cheered Gwen as Tosh, red in the face and not a force to be reckoned with, began to seethe at Owen about how 'that had better not be the work I've been doing overtime on for over a week, or so help me!'. An inter-team argument broke out as everyone took the opportunity to criticize Owen, and Owen refused to be criticized. Jack stood wordlessly underneath the basketball hoop, uncharacteristically uninvolved.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Ianto went to fetch the basketball, which had made its way to the entrance of Jack's office. Occupant of said office stared as Ianto bent down to pick up the ball. When Ianto stood up, he met Jack's gaze and smirked. Jack smiled back shamelessly, crossed his arms, and winked. Ianto rolled his eyes again and, with a sharp whistle to draw her attention, passed to Martha.  
  
\-----  
__  
_They would be absolutely fine one player short. Ianto knew this, and had tried as hard as he possibly could to convince Gwen of it, but she had insisted that the teams be ‘equal’. He could’ve told her what he had planned, but the rest of the team had been there and Ianto had no plans of giving away his secret weapon. Naturally, it had hen fallen to him to call Martha Jones of UNIT to invite her to come play chaotic, no-rules Hub basketball with the team of Torchwood Three. Ianto refused to follow Jack’s lead and call it ‘Torchwood-ball’. One had to have some standards. He shook his head, speed-dialling Martha, hoping she wasn’t in the middle of anything important. Because it wasn’t as though either of them had jobs to do, much less world-saving, alien-hunting, life-threatening jobs. Oh no, not them._  
  
_The phone rang only twice before Martha picked up. “Ianto! What a pleasant surprise – at least, I hope. If you need me to come chase some aliens, or keep Owen out of whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into this time, I’m happy to help.”_  
  
_Ianto chuckled. “Actually, I had something else in mind…” After not much convincing and the most sincere ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can’ that Ianto had ever heard, Team Gwen-Ianto-and-now-Martha had their third player._  
  
_Less than two hours later, Martha walked into the Torchwood Hub to be greeted by clamorous pop music and a basketball thrown at her face._  
  
\-----  
  
“Alright, come on team, let’s do this!” Martha’s enthusiasm was met with a whoop from Ianto and Gwen signalling loudly for a pass. She dribbled along the walkway circling the rift manipulator as Martha cheered her on, and Ianto held his breath and Gwen came within centimetres of hitting various open circuits and protruding wires. Everyone rushed into the space in front of the hoop, various shouts filling the air as Gwen passed back to Martha, who threw the ball towards Ianto before it was intercepted by Owen with an exclamation of ‘ha!’. Jack and Tosh shouted their encouragement as Owen was swarmed by Martha and Ianto.  
  
“C’mon you two, let’s get a move on!” Owen hassled his teammates, passing above Martha’s outstretched hands to Tosh’s waiting ones. As Tosh turned around to shoot, knees bent and arms behind her head, Gwen grabbed the ball out of her hands, and threw it desperately in the direction of the hoop. The ball sailed gracelessly above the backboard (which, of course, was specially endowed with the same logo that haunted Ianto’s figurative and literal dreams) and hit the catwalk with a clang.  
  
“I’ll get it!” yelled Tosh, already moving up the stairs to retrieve the ball.  
  
\-----  
__  
_Catwalks were banned. That was the only rule. After last time, when Owen and Gwen had won solely because of Owen’s ability to get up onto the catwalks without being noticed as Gwen distracted Tosh and Jack, it has been decided that catwalks were most definitely an ‘illegal move’. Apart from that, the same rules of basic human dignity applied (as well as a couple of basketball-oriented suggestions), but from then on all bets were off._  
  
_Double-dribbling, travelling, sabotage and all manner of distractions could be emphatically complained about but would not be enforced as game rules. It was like Calvinball, with less Calvin and more dangerous alien technological in the immediate vicinity. Oh, and an actual pteranodon in the building. Most of the team still agreed that ‘pterodactyl is sexier’, but it never hurt to be scientifically accurate. Especially when said prehistoric bird was being considered as a player in team sports._  
  
_Jack and Gwen had immediately nominated themselves team captains (for obvious reasons), and had picked their own teammates as Tosh, Ianto and Owen collectively (and loudly) mourned the death of democracy. It had almost ended up as girls against boys, but Gwen had insisted that there was something fundamentally wrong about pitting the genders against each other. Not that gender mattered when everyone was screaming, someone had turned into an alien and the basketball had fallen into another dimension. At least, that was how Ianto secretly hoped the afternoon teambuilding session would turn out._  
  
\-----  
  
Making impressively good time for someone who was both short and not particularly athletic, Tosh had ran back down the stairs, basketball in hand. In amidst a chorus of laughter and ‘over here!’ and ‘oh no you don’t!’ and ‘WHY IS NO ONE MARKING IANTO’, Tosh threw to Jack, who was jumping up and down behind Martha. He grinned as he caught the ball, laughing as he twisted towards the hoop. Gwen threw herself in his path, blocking his way to the hoop. “Hey!” Jack exclaimed with thinly veiled amusement, pivoting to pass back to Owen. The shot was expertly intercepted by Ianto, who caught the ball and passed it to Martha before Owen had realised that it wasn’t in his hands. Owen’s angry growl and Gwen’s laughter followed Ianto as he ran towards Tosh’s desk, tapping Gwen on the shoulder as he went. Understanding immediately, Gwen didn’t hesitate for a moment before tackling Jack. With two pained ‘oof!’s and a surprised gasp from Tosh, the two went down as Martha got ready to shoot the hoop.  
  
As Ianto had anticipated, Owen ran towards Martha, ready to grab the ball out of her hands.  
  
It was at that moment that half a take-out container of teriyaki chicken freshly covered in barbeque sauce was thrown into the air. All eyes turned to Ianto, who admired his airborne handiwork with an amused ‘huh’. Time seemed to slow as BBQ sauce rained down on the players, frozen on what was going to be one very messy floor in a matter of seconds. Jaws dropped and gasps were drawn.  
  
It was then that an almighty shriek filled the air – and everyone’s ears – as Myfanwy the pteranodon nosedived from the heavens towards what she assumed was her mid-morning snack.  
  
With a shrill scream that could compete with every Myfanwy’s screeches, Owen threw himself onto the ground as leathery wings flapped past him. Martha grinned, unfazed, and took her shot. The basketball flew in a perfect arc to the centre of backboard, hitting dead centre, and bounced elegantly into the hoop.  
  
There was a moment of stunned silence before the deafening cacophony of Gwen and the Joneses’ celebratory whoops and cheers began. It didn’t take long for Owen to join in, swearing at victors with a vigour equal to that which they were celebrating with. Tosh gaped at the teriyaki mess on the floor. Gwen helped Jack up; the look on his face alone was enough to make the inevitable cleaning of the floor worth it. “That,” Jack began carefully, “was really something.”  
  
Ianto said nothing for a moment. He looked at Martha, then to Gwen. As if by silent agreement, the three of them burst simultaneously into uncontrollable laughter. This laughter could not be described as a chuckle, nor even a guffaw - Martha’s eyes were closed and her chest was shaking, racked with laughter.  Gwen’s head was thrown backwards as she clutched her sides and howled. Ianto was the worst of them, doubled over with laughter that fell somewhere between hysteria and asphyxiation. “That is also the reason we are never playing Torchwood-ball again.” Jack continued, possibly more for his own benefit than the others’. Owen continued to grumble, and Tosh burst into her own fit of giggles.  
  
The ‘winners’ began to calm down. Martha, still smiling like she’d won the lottery (or been given a proper day off), crossed over to Jack, hand outstretched. “Good game, my friend.” she managed with all the formality of someone who moments earlier had been in danger of having ‘died of laughter’ on her death certificate. Jack grinned back at her, all teeth and genuine friendliness. “Good game, Martha Jones.” He swivelled around to face Ianto. “As for you!” Jack shook his fist in Ianto’s direction, causing another fit of laughter from himself, Tosh and Martha.  
  
Predictably, Gwen and Owen were already arguing about whether use of a dinosaur constituted unfair play, featuring language that would make a sailor blush and wild gesticulation that was either a re-enactment of Myfanwy’s role in the whole kerfuffle or just very passionate. Ianto walked over to where Tosh was standing. They took in the chaos together.  
  
“Nice move.” Tosh said eventually.  
  
“It wasn’t really in the spirit of teambuilding.” Ianto conceded.  
  
“Maybe not,” agreed Tosh, “but maybe there was definitely teamwork involved.” She motioned over to where Jack and Owen were now laughing about something as Martha and Gwen took turns explaining how Ianto had proposed the pteranodon plan.  
  
Ianto laughed, shrugging slightly. “Then I suppose Torchwood-ball wasn’t all bad then.”  



End file.
